


Midsummer

by glassandroses



Series: Books Meets Horror [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Midsommar Fusion, Cults, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Death Rituals, Drug Use, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fucked Up, He almost can’t bear it, If you’ve watched Midsommar you know what’s about to go down, Inspired by Midsommar (2019), Mating Rituals, Minor Feyre Archeron/Tamlin, Multi, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Recreational Drug Use, Ritual Public Sex, Ritual Sex, Rituals, Suicide, Tamlin is bear-y happy to be there, ok I’ll stop now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassandroses/pseuds/glassandroses
Summary: A couple, Feyre Archeron and Tamlin Springfield,  and their group of friends travel to Sweden to visit their friend's rural hometown for its fabled midsummer festival. An unofficial rewritten version of the film “Midsommar” by Ari Aster.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Books Meets Horror [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642705
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. The Prophesy Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/gluchie
> 
> Warning: This story contains these triggers... murder-suicide, family deaths, cults, cult practices, psychedelic drug use, death rituals, sex rituals, and general gore. Read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains these specific triggers: explicit murder and suicide scenes.

“Hello, you have reached... the Archeron residence. Please leave a message after the tone.”

Feyre sighed, not understanding why either her parents weren’t picking up after she’d called so many times. “Hey mom, hey dad, it’s Feyre.” She started. “I was just caling to see how you guys were doing, um,” Feyre wet her lips, “Listen, I got a really scary email from Nesta, and I- I’ve been checking for a response but she hasn’t yet. Um, so I don’t know if you’ve been fighting or something, but if you could call me back and tell me what’s going on, that’d be great.” Feyre sighed again, “Okay, love you guys, goodnight.”

Feyre pressed the end call button before dialing another number.

The call picked up on the third ring. A crowd echoed through the background of the call. “Hey Feyre.”

“Hey Tamlin, honey. What are you up to?”

“Um, we just had a smoke and now we're getting pizza.” Tamlin said, but he was hiding something. Feyre knew he was always hiding something.

“Oh, nice.” Feyre droned, not really knowing what else to say. She could hear one of Tamlin’s friends, Lucien, saying hi to her over and over in the background. “Hi, Mark.”

“Hi, Mark.” Tamlin echoed for her, which made Feyre want to sigh and roll her eyes. “So, um... how's the sister situation?”

Um, well... I emailed her three times and still no response, so I'm getting a little bit nervous, so...”

“I'm sure it's fine.” Feyre could practically hear Tamlin rolling his eyes.

Feyre sighed. “Yeah, probably...”

“She does this pretty much every day, Fey. And only because you let her.” The disdain in his tone was almost unbearable.

“Well, I don't let her, she has a bipolar disorder, so-“

“Yeah, I know.” Tamlin interrupted, “But, you do though, babes? You go straight to crisis mode every time this happens.”

“Well, she's my sister, and even you said that this email seemed different.” Feyre refreshed her email again.

“Yeah, right, but... Is it though, really? It's still just another obvious ploy for attention just like every other panic attack she's given you.”

Feyre closed her eyes, silently giving up the fight she didn’t want to be in anyway. “Yeah, you're right. You are right, yeah, I know.”

“I mean, the more you respond the more she's encouraged to keep-“

“No, I know, I know, I know. You're right, you're right. I just... I just needed to be reminded, thank you. I'm very lucky to have you.” The words felt like lead on her tongue.

“Yeah, well.”

“I love you.” Feyre tried.

“I love you.” Tamlin said, and it felt fake. Forced.

“Okay, uh, I'll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Bye, Lucien.” Feyre attempted to joke, but it just felt dry.

“Bye, Lucien.” Tamlin echoed again, and dropped the call.

* * *

“It's in his tone, like, you can hear it in his voice, he's just working up the nerve to say something.” Feyre complained on the phone to her friend as she tried to tidy up her dorm- possibly a distraction.

“So be direct! Confront him.” Alis said back.

“What if I've scared him, though? I'm always roping him into my family crap.” Feyre sighed.

“How do you rope him in?”

“I'm always leaning on him!” Feyre cried, “Like, I even called him today in tears because my sister wrote another stupid scary email.”

“That's what he's there for.” Alis said pointedly.

“What if I'm scaring him off?” Feyre asked, another pondering of why her boyfriend of nearly four years was acting in the way he did.

“What did your sister write?”

“Mmm.” Feyre gulped down the pills. “Just some ominous bullshit like she always does and it's torture. And I lean on him constantly for support. Like, what if I have overwhelmed him and he thinks that I just have too much baggage?” Feyre wailed as she walked around her dorm.

“Well, if that's the case, then good riddance, right?” 

No, not if I... I went too far, if I leaned too much.

“You didn't!” Alis cried incredulously. “He should be there when you need him.”

Feyre sat and refreshed her email once again. “Yeah, but what if I need him too often and it becomes a chore?”

“Then he's not the right guy.” Alis stated obviously. “Because it shouldn't ever be a chore. Would it be a chore if he leaned on you?”

“Yeah, but he doesn't ask me for anything.” Feyre groaned, “I've never even seen him cry, so I'm the only one that's leaning.”

“Or the only one opening up. The only one making yourself vulnerable. That's intimacy.” Alis said, trying to get through to her friend.

The call was interrupted by an unknown caller flashing across her screen. “Alis, I’ll call you back.

* * *

“Dude. You have gotta get off the fence with this.” Lucien said before taking a swig of his beer.

“What if I regret it later and I can't get her back?”

“You don't want her back!” Lucien cried in outrage.

“But I might.” Tamlin argued.

“Okay, well, then you can bitch to us about how much you regret it for that day and then we'll remind you again that you've been wanting out of this stupid relationship for, like, a year now and then you can find a chick who actually likes sex and doesn't drag you through a million hoops every day.”

“Do you think there is a masochistic part of you that is playing out this particular drama to avoid the work you actually need to be doing?” Ianthe hummed.

Tamlin turned towards her. “What work do I need to be doing, Ianthe, exactly?”

Ianthe raised her eyebrows. “Well, I dunno, your prospectus, maybe? Your PhD...”

“Wow, okay, thanks for the psychoanalysis.  
It's not about academics, Ianthe.

“I'm just trying to get you focused-“

A waitress moved towards their table, picking up the bill. “Change?”

“Um,” Tamlin shook his head, “No, that's for you.” He didn’t miss the wink the waitress sent him.

“See? You could be getting that girl pregnant right now. And don't forget about all the Swedish women you can impregnate in June.” Lucien joked.

“Okay, guys.” Tamlin tried to settle his friends.

“Don't forget about all the Swedish milkmaids.” Rhysand said, who had been surprisingly quiet during the whole dinner.

“Mmm-hmm.” Lucien agreed.

Tamlin’s phone rang again, Feyre’s picture showing while his phone vibrated. It was one of the only ones he had where she was smiling. She didn’t smile much these days.

“That's not her again.” Luicien groaned and looked over at Tamlin’s phone. “Seriously? Oh my God. She needs a therapist, dude.”

“She has a therapist.” Tamlin tried to defend Feyre, albeit weakly.

“Oh, so then she should call her therapist and not you. It's literally abuse. She's abusing you.”

“Okay, excuse me, guys.” Tamlin stood and Ianthe and Rhysand sidestepped out of the booth. Tamlin moved a few feet away from the table and answered the phone. “Hey-“

“No.” Feyre cried, followed by a sob.

“Feyre, babe?” Tamlin stiffened, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.” Feyre sobbed, “No, no, no, no, no!”

_The garage was clouded with smoke, as two volunteer firefighters turned off the engines of two cars, both older models and both colored blue. Three yellow tubes led into the house, splitting off in different directions as the firefighters walked upstairs. Two bedroom doors were taped shut, with the tubes going into each._

_The first room the firefighters went into was the room of an older couple, their names Peter and Jacoba. Parents of three, as the photos littering their night-tables told._

_The next room belonged to a girl, the middle sister she appeared to be. Another yellow tube taped under her door, but it looked like someone had attempted to pull it out- a last minute change of heart._

_The house had a lingering stench of death as the monoxide wafted out of the house. As the family was zipped into bodybags, the firefighters realized they missed someone with the most gruesome death of all. The oldest sister was rested on the floor beneath her desk with another yellow tube taped to her face. Her skin had turned grey and her shirt was stained with vomit. Above her, a laptop was on and bright, showing an email chain between her and the youngest sister. At the bottom of the screen, there was a notification that was left unread._

**_“You have 4 new messages from Feyre Archeron.”_ **


	2. Six Months Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains these specific triggers: depression and ptsd symptoms, college partying, drinking, mentions of drugs and sex.

A knock at the door startled Feyre from her daze. Tamlin peeked through the door. “Hey, babe. How’re you feeling?”

It took effort for her to sit up, but she did it nonetheless. “I'm up.” Feyre said groggily. “Where you going?”

“I was just gonna go to that party for 45 minutes. But, you just keep sleeping.” 

“No-“ Feyre said before Tamlin could shut the door, “No, I'll come with you.”

Tamlin looked her over with worry- or disdain- in his eyes. “You sure you got enough sleep?”

Feyre shrugged and stood up. “I wasn't sleeping anyway.”

Tamlin pursed his lips, but nodded and closed the door so she could dress, alone and in silence.

* * *

The party was dull, the smooth, sleepy die down of everyone coming down from their high, whether it be alcohol or drugs or sex.

“Yeah, I'm fucking dreading the beginning of summer.” Ianthe whined “Stuck in a shithole listening to my step-mom fuck my dad all day.”

“I'll listen to your step-mom fuck your dad.” Lucien snickered.

Tamlin cleared his throat, picking up the awkward vibe, and changed the subject “Hey, Ianthe, you, uh, going to Europe?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” She looked at him with confusion, “For my thesis, you know, we all are.”

“Oh, you're all going?” Feyre asked, confused.

“Yeah, they're all coming to visit my home in Velaris. Sweden.” Rhysand said happily.

“Oh,” Feyre smiled at him. Rhys was the nicest of her boyfriend’s friend group, and he had always been kind to her. “Any occasion, or is it just for fun?”

Ianthe cleared her throat. “Uh, well, I'm... I'm doing my research on European midsummer traditions, these guys are just tagging along.”

Lucien snickered again. “Mr. Rhys invited us to an authentic hippie midsummer at his yodeling farm.”

“Oh, yeah?” Feyre seemed interested, intrigued. She looked over at Tamlin, wondering if he knew anything about the trip, but he looked... guilty.

Tamlin noticed her look. “I mean, we were talking about it. We were thinking about it.”

“For when?”

“Uh... Mid-June to mid-July. About two weeks from now? I mean, that's if we even go.  
I'm probably not gonna go, but... Yeah, we were talking about it.” Tamlin stuttered out.

Feyre, glared at him, and he avoided her gaze. They didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the party.

* * *

When they were back in her dorm room, he finally had the gall to speak to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Feyre locked the door behind her. “That was just really weird.”

Tamlin wouldn’t look at her. “What was?”

“The... Sweden thing. I had no idea.” Feyre crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, what do you mean? 'Cause I told you I wanted to go.”

“Okay, fine, but I didn't know you were going.

“I just decided today. I wasn't keeping it from you.”

With every word he said, Feyre’s temper grew more and more. “You already have a ticket.”

Tamlin shook his head at her, blowing out a puff of air. “I'm sorry?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, just imagine if you were at a party and someone said, "Hey, what're you doing for summer?" And then my friend said, "Oh, we're going to China for three months and we're leaving in two weeks..."”

Tamlin scoffed. “It's Sweden, for about nine days, I think. And it was the first you'd ever heard of it in this theory.”

Feyre sighed, ready to give up another fight. “Okay.”

Tamlin stood up, towering over her. “I told you I wanted to go to Sweden.”

Feyre straightened up, subconsciously rivaling to match him. “No, you said it would be cool to go.”

“Yeah, and then I got the opportunity and I decided to do it.” Tamlin said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Look, I don't mind you going. I just wish you would've told me, that's all.”

Tamlin threw his hands up in agitation. “Well, I just apologized, Feyre.”

“You didn't apologize, you said sorry, which sounds more like, "Too bad."” Feyre frowned.

“Maybe I should just go home.” Tamlin said suddenly.

“What? No, no. I'm just trying to understand-“

“And I'm trying to apologize.” Tamlin threw back.

“And I don't need an apology.” Feyre hugged her chest tighter. “I don't, I just wanted to talk about it, that's all.”

Tamlin sighed. “I really think I should just leave-“

“No, no, no, no. Please, please, please. I'm not... I'm not trying to attack you.”

“It really feels like you are.”

“I'm not.” Feyre said firmly.

“Well, then... Well, then I'm sorry. I'm... I just got confused. I'm sorry, I-“

“Hey, please, c'mon, can you come? Just can you come and sit- sit with me, please? Please, and we can talk about it.” Feyre guided him to her couch and they both sat down. “Look, it just... It just felt really weird, okay? But I'm fine, I think it's great that you're going to Sweden, I do. I think it's amazing. Are you going for your thesis?”

Tamlin sighed, placing his hand atop Feyre’s knee. “I don't know what my thesis is.”

Feyre nodded sympathetically. “I know and it... It can... It will... This trip can be inspiring, right? Right?”

* * *

“In Stockholm, are there any, like, meatball sex clubs we should hit up before we head north?”

No, we're going straight north.

Not straight, straight, though, right?

We gotta go through Stockholm to get there.

No, it's the opposite direction. Stockholm is south of Arlanda.

“Guys, it's Feyre. She's coming up.”

“Okay. Should we clear all this?” Ianthe gestured to the mess of beer bottles and miscellaneous drugs spread out on the table.

“No, it's fine.”

Um, I invited Feyre to come to Sweden. So you guys know. She's not actually gonna come, but I invited her just to not make it weird.

“You invited her to...” Ianthe started.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“But she's not coming. She doesn't want to?” Lucien asked, wanting to make sure.

“I invited her and she accepted, but she's not actually coming to Sweden.” Tamlin assured the room.

Lucien lifted his hands up in surrender. “Okay.”

“Guys, you know what she's been going through.”

“Yeah, no, dude, I just, uh, thought it was...” Lucien drifted off. “Uh- Yeah, dude, nobody minds.”

“Thought you were saying something else, that's all.” Everyone shook their heads. “Okay, that's great. And just so we're clear, you guys told me to invite her and you all know that she's coming... Agreed?”

“Yep.” They all agreed simultaneously.

There was a soft knock on the front door and Tamlin opened it. “Hey!”

“Hey, babe!” Feyre greeted him. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey.” Ianthe said back, a bit too pleasantly.

“Yo.” Lucien grumbled, his eyes not moving from his phone.

The air was awkward, as it always was when Feyre was around Tamlin’s friends. “How's it going?”

“We're chilling.” Ianthe smiled at her.

Feyre nodded. “Nice.”

Lucien groaned at the pitiful attempt of small talk, but Ianthe continued. “So, Sweden.”

Feyre nodded again. “Yeah.”

“You're coming, right?” Ianthe drawled. Lucien actually looked up from his phone this time.

“I mean, I-“ Feyre gulped, “I guess so, if that's not completely ruining you guys' plans.”

“Oh,” Ianthe waved her hand “No, no.”

Rhysand shook his head and smiled at her. “No, not at all.”

“Tamlin,” Lucien all but growled, “Can I get you to take a look at this paragraph real quick?” Lucien got up to move to another room before Tamlin even responded.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Tamlin scratched the back of his head. “I'll be back.”

“Yep.” Feyre held back a sigh and moved to sit with the remaining group. “Hey, Rhysand.”

Rhysand looked up from his drawing notebook, closing it quickly. “Hi Feyre.”

“Um, what were you drawing?”

“Oh, just a table.” Rhys smiled at her. He was always smiling at her, unlike Tamlin’s other friends.

“Oh.” Feyre nodded, even though she had seen the drawing before he closed the notebook. It was a table, yes, but it was on fire. “So, how have you been?”

“Pretty good.” Rhys said happily.

“Yeah?” Feyre echoed his happiness.

“Survived finals, you know.” Rhys shrugged. “And you?”

“Uh...” Feyre wet her lips, “I didn't quite finish, but they're giving me a break this year.”

Rhys looked startled. “Oh, God, yes, yes, of course. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Feyre shooed him off. “How did you like the Anthropology department?”

“I like it, yeah. Not as much as this one maybe, but...” Rhys hesitated, “You're doing psychiatry, right?”

“Uh, psychology, yeah. That's how you know I'm nuts.” She joked.

“Yeah, also that funny look in your eye.” Rhys chuckled. “So you're coming to Velaris?”

“I guess so, yeah.” Feyre nodded, “And, um, we'll actually be arriving on my birthday.”

“Oh!” Rhysand grinned at her, and Feyre swooned. “Well, happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” Feyre smiled at him. “Yeah, so Tamlin says you've got this special week planned.”

“Yeah, it's sort of a crazy nine-day festival my family's doing. Lots of pageantry, special ceremonies, and dressing up.” Rhys smiled longingly, missing his home.

Feyre chuckled- the closest thing to a laugh that she’s had in a long time. “That sounds fun.”

Rhys shrugged. “It'll probably seem very silly. But, it's like theater.”

“Yeah, Tamlin told me you're... you're from like a commune, right?”

Yeah, we're... We're a small community. Here. I'll show you.” Rhysand pulled up some pictures of his village. Velaris, it’s called.

“Oh, wow.” Feyre gasped, “I see what you mean about the pageantry.”

“Yeah, we make those clothes special for every winter and summer solstice. I mean, everybody sort of does everything together.”

Feyre zoomed in on a symbol sewn onto a girl’s dress. “That's an interesting symbol.”

“Yeah, we're taught the Runic alphabet, so.” He paused as Feyre swiped to another photo.

“Whoa, who's that one?” Feyre said in awe.

“That's last year's May Queen.” Rhys said proudly.

“She’s beautiful.” Feyre murmured softly.

Rhys suddenly looked up at her. “You know, I'm very, very glad you're coming. I- I think it's very good you're coming.”

“Thank you.” Feyre gave him a soft smile.

“Also, I never had the chance to tell you, but I was- I was so very sorry to hear about your loss.”

The smile on Feyre’s face disappeared. “Oh.”

“What happened, I mean, I can't even imagine.” Rhys continued, “I mean, I lost my parents, too, so...”

“Okay.” Feyre said, wanting nothing more than the conversation to be over.

I kind of have some idea...” Rhys paused, finally realizing that Feyre had become uncomfortable. “I'm sorry.”

Feyre snapped out of her blooming shock. “No! No, I'm sorry.”

“No, you're-“

“I'm gonna just go to the bathroom, thank you.” She grit out and made a run for the restroom.


	3. First Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains these specific triggers: depression and ptsd symptoms, psychedelic drug usage, panic attacks, mention of suicide.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our initial descent into Stockholm...”_

It had been the third panic attack Feyre had since she boarded the plane. The last time on a plane was when she was touring colleges, when she was accompanied by... Nesta.

Nesta.

Another strained scream burst out of her, as she rubbed her eyes harshly. She wanted to scream and sob and collapse but she wasn’t at her dorm, or Tamlin’s, she was on a public airplane.

Feyre managed to pull herself together, splashing some water on her face before exiting the restroom and going back to her seat.

‘You okay?’ Tamlin mouthed to her once she had gotten settled back down.

‘I’m fine.’ Feyre mouthed back while she refastened her seatbelt. Tamlin only looked away, not caring any more than he already had.

It broke Feyre’s heart further than it already was broken.

* * *

“Oh, my God, the women here.” Lucien drawled as he stared at a group of blond Swedish girls wearing sundresses. “What is it that makes them hotter?”

“The Vikings grabbed all the best babes from other countries and dragged them over.” Tamlin snickered.

“Tamlin, you can do your thesis on that.” Ianthe joked.

“How long is the drive?” Feyre asked Rhys, who was driving. The mood was broken immediately and Feyre almost felt bad.

“About four hours.” Rhys smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, my God. That long?” Lucien groaned, slumping down in his seat.

“Hey, at least you got shotgun!” Ianthe whined, and the mood was back.

Feyre sighed, drowning them out and only planning to stare out the window for the rest of the drive.

* * *

Feyre was jolted awake from the car moving onto less smooth ground, before slowing to a stop. Rhys got out, followed by everyone else. “Okay, this is the first stop.”

“This is it?” Someone asked, but Feyre was too groggy to tell.

“Not quite, almost-”

“Rhys!” A man with long, dark hair called out to him happily.

“Hey!” Rhys called back and waved to him.

“Hey!” The other man with the same dark colored hair echoed.

“Brothers!” Rhys shouted to them as he pulled them both in for a hug.

“Hey, guys, so these are my brothers. They're also returning from their trips outside. Come on over.” He waved the group over, who followed him through the tall grass. “These are my friends from America.”

“Hi.” Ianthe said first, followed by a chorus of greetings from everyone else.

“Okay, so this is, uh... Lucien, Feyre, Tamlin, and Ianthe.” Rhys introduced us one by one.

“Nice to meet you.” Cassian said with a grin, while Azriel just waved politely. “Oh yeah! And say hello to my friends. This is Issac and Clare from London.”

“How's it going?” Issac said jovially while Clare simply smiled.

“Hi.” Everyone said to the couple.

“Issac, Clare, this is Rhys and Az... And these are all the names I just learned two seconds ago.” Everybody laughed at that. “Perfect timing, by the way, we... We just took these five minutes ago.” He held up a bag with dried mushrooms inside. “Haven't even started coming up yet.”

“Oh, shit!” Lucien said, grabbing at the bag. “Do you guys wanna take it now or should we settle in first?”

“Fuck it, let's just take it now, right?” Tamlin said to his friend.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ianthe agreed.

“Great.” Lucien began digging into the bag.

“Uh, you know what,” Feyre pulled Tamlin aside, “I might have to find my footing first if that's okay.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Tamlin muttered, uneasy about her choice.

“Yeah? Okay.” Feyre replied.

“And listen,” Tamlin continued, “If you're feeling uneasy, you don't have to take them at all.”

“No. No, no, no. I just...” Feyre paused, preparing for a potential fight. “I wanna feel settled first.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Tamlin ran a hand through his hair before turning back to her. “Okay.”

Feyre nodded, holding back a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“I'll wait.” Tamlin crossed his arms over his chest.

 _Here cones the guilt tripping,_ Feyre thought. “No, no, you go ahead.”

“No, I'll wait.” Tamlin said, firmer than before. “Please. I want us to come up together.”

_Excuses, excuses._

“Ready?” Lucien called out a he and Ianthe stared at them.

“Uh, guys I'm gonna wait for Feyre, so you just go ahead.”

“Dude, we can't take them at different times, they'll be totally separate trips. You wanna wait for us then?”

“You know what, it's fine, it's fine.” Feyre compromised, either for Lucien’s sake or her own she didn’t know.

“Babe... Babe, no.” Tamlin said, some sort of worry in his eyes.

 _The backpedaling starts._ “I'm ready.”

Tamlin waved his hands in surrender. “No, it's okay, don't feel rushed.”

“I don't, I don't. It's fine, I'm ready.”

“Are you sure?” Lucien called to her, ready to pop a mushroom in his mouth.

Feyre held back a sigh of exasperation. “Yes, Lucien, thank you.”

“They've made mushroom tea, if you prefer  
against the taste.” One of Rhys’s brothers offered.

“Uh, yeah, okay, I'll try that, thank you. Um, Cassian?” She tried pronouncing his unfamiliar name.

“Cassian.” He confirmed, cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“Cassian, okay. Thank you.” She thanked him again.

“Perfect.” He said and rushed off to get her tea.

“Don't let Mark be the one to pressure you.

“He's not. Of all people, he's not, he's not. It will... It will get complicated otherwise, it's fine.” Feyre murmured, sounding more like she was convincing herself rather than Tamlin.

Cassian came back with two cups of tea. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, thank you.” Feyre nodded her thanks to him.

“There you go.” He placed it in her hands, the warmth ebbing onto her fingers.

“Oh wow. Thanks, dude.” Tamlin said when he got his mushroom tea. “Okay, here we go then.”

“Think happy thoughts!” Ianthe called to her teasingly.

Tamlin looked from Ianthe to Feyre. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah.” Feyre nodded slowly, “Yeah, I'm excited. I think it's gonna be fun.”

“Cheers!” He clinked his tea against hers and chugged to down in one gulp. Feyre was hesitant, taking tiny sips until it was all gone.

“All right.” Feyre breathed out. That wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.

* * *

Minutes- or maybe hours- later, they were resting on a grassy hill. Some stared at the grass and fields while others stared at the trees and the sky. They were all silent- deadly quiet, lost in a haze of swirls and euphoria- until Lucien just had to open his mouth.

“What time is it?” Lucien asked.

“It's 9:00 p.m.” Rhys answered him.

Lucien turned around to look at him incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” Rhys countered.

“That can't be right! The sky is blue!” Lucien exclaimed.

“It's fine, it's Sweden.” Tamlin answered him hazily.

“That's not fine! Why is it like that?” Lucien showed no sign of calming down, a high-induced panic raking over him.

“It's okay, Lucien. It's the midnight sun.” Ianthe explained calmly- knowledgeably.

“That feels wrong, I don't like that!” Lucien continued to panic.

“I promise you, it's okay.” Rhys said, holding back a laugh.

“I'm not okay.” Lucien’s breathing was heavy. Rustling grass echoed throughout the field, along with footsteps. “Oh, fuck, it's a new person.”

“What?” This time, Rhys couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I don't want new people right now.” Lucien cried in annoyance.

“No, new people are good, Lucien.” Rhys chuckled.

The ‘new person’ was just another villager passing through the field. “Hi, hi!”

Lucien breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I'm just gonna lay down, okay?”

“Yeah, do that.” Rhys covered his chuckle with a cough.

“Everybody else lay down.” Lucien said, “Guys, do it, it feels so nice. Ianthe, can you lie down, please?”

Ianthe rolled her eyes at him.

Lucien either ignored her or didn’t see her. “Can you feel that? The energy. Coming up from the earth.” Lucien said to the group. “Look! The trees too, they're breathing. Nature just knows instinctively how to stay in harmony. Everything just mechanically doing its part.”

After about a second of silence, Lucien continued to babble. “You guys are like my family. You're like my real, actual family.”

_Snap._

Feyre instantly felt like she was going to vomit. Memories flashed before her eyes of people she once loved, people she _still_ loved. People who once were alive.

Feyre stood, needing to run, needing to _hide_ , and-

“Feyre?” Tamlin said, 

“Sorry. Uh, I'm gonna go for a walk.” Feyre stuttered out.

“I can walk, too-“ Tamlin started.

“No, I'm good.” Feyre gave her best fake smile to the group and walked away. “No, no, no, no. Don't think that. You're fine. It's almost your birthday. You're okay, you're fine. You're fine.” Feyre tried to talk herself down.

Another memory hit her. Nesta chasing her and Elain in the yard. Elain screaming as she was tagged. Elain screaming as she was killed.

“Stop it! I'm fine.” Feyre’s eyes began to well up with tears.

“Hey, Feyre!” Cassian called to her from a wooden picnic table, “Want to come meet my friends?”

“Um,” Feyre shook her head, “Thank you. I'm sorry, thank you.”

Feyre turned and walked to the closest thing she could see- an outhouse. _A hiding spot._

She stepped in and locked the door behind her, letting the whole panic attack consume her.

“Stop it! Stop it, fuck!” She hit herself on the head, “You're okay, you're okay, you're okay.”

She splashed water on her face, and lifted her head to look at herself in the mirror. Except she was not alone.

Nesta. Nesta, standing behind her, bleary and hollow grey eyes and vomit-stained shirt. Bruises, cuts- a little yellow tube taped to her face.

“Feyre.” She- _it_ called to her.

_Monoxide, monoxide, monoxide in her lungs._

She crashed out of the outhouse, stumbling to the ground and pushing herself back up again. She looked for an escape, a place to hide and cower and just _be_.

So she ran in that direction. Ran through the woods until she collapsed from the drugs or the panic or both.


End file.
